New Endings
by gracelessheart
Summary: Even if once doubting the mere existence of love and being completely certain that if it did, at least it wasn't for him, he knew better now. Now, he had solid proof. And he was eternally grateful for having been proven wrong. Morgan/Prentiss. Morgan POV.


**New Endings**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything.

**Author's Note: **Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed my stories so far! I really appreciate it!

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"_Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending." - Maria Robinson._

Derek Morgan had always been skeptical towards the concept of love. That being said, it didn't mean he didn't believe in its existence. Because he had seen it. For example between his parents. Even as a child, he had grown up, knowing that his parents truly loved each other and he had seen how his father's death had broken something in his mother that would never really mend. So love existed, but not just for him. To him, the concept of feeling complete by another person's presence and not being able to imagine life without them... No. He could never in a million years fathom that such thing could ever happen to him.

Although that did not mean that Derek Morgan didn't try to pretend he thought he could find the one out there. He dated. And frequently so and rarely the same woman for longer than a few weeks. And he definitely didn't have problems with the ladies. That was a well known fact. If he wanted to have a date on Friday night, he got himself a date on Friday night. And even if that date even lasted through Saturday and even into Sunday morning, he always stuck to his principles, his rules. Because Derek Morgan didn't commit. That was also a well known fact; Derek Morgan had flings. He dated. But he never got serious. He knew it, the women he dated knew it, everybody knew it. It was simple. No one invested emotionally and no one got hurt, a win-win situation really. And why should he? It wasn't like "the one" was out there. No, that was just some romanticized vision stolen from fairytales, old English poetry and Hollywood flicks.

But eventually, new rumors started to circulate. Because it didn't matter if you were a senior in high school or a federal employee with badge, gun and authority; people always like to gossip. People always find time and energy to spread rumors. And Morgan wasn't oblivious. He didn't care. That should have been the first sign. Usually, he was rather keen on hearing what people said about him. Not that it would change anything, or that he would confront anyone about it. He just wanted to know where people stood. But as words around Quantico changed, he found that he didn't really care.

Because suddenly, the majority of those who was immensely interested in the personal lives of other agents, seemed to believe that he had something going on with the, back then, new agent on the team, a certain Emily Prentiss. When this particular words circulated back to him, Morgan had wanted to laugh at first. He'd even ventured to Garcia's office to ask if people actually walked around thinking he was sleeping with his partner. Because no matter his reputation, he wasn't the type to sleep around with his partner. Never.

And even if she hadn't been his partner, Emily Prentiss was _definitely_ not the type to fall for someone like him. He had even had that particular discussion with Reid, of all people, a very long time ago. Now in retrospect, Derek knew better than to wave off one of the boy genius' theories but back then, he had just laughed.

Because dating casually and probably having some kind of commitment issues also meant that he had a type. Which was the complete opposite of Emily. He dated...girls. Or extremely girly women. Always younger than him with bubbly personalities, high pitched laughter, fluttering eye lashes and often fancying french manicure, red lipstick or something else very feminine. They were simple. Not that much to find and be amazed by beneath the surface and he'd more than once found himself trying to seem interested in topics such as moisturizers, Broadway musicals and the level of cuteness in chihuahuas and other miniature dogs that Clooney would send flying across the room with a mere flick of the tail. But they meant no complications so why should he have complained?

So when the ice-breaker between him and Emily was _literature _(another thing pointed out by Reid) he should have realized that was also a sign. The thought of enthusiastically discussing beauty products with Emily still made him laugh, even after all these years.

He couldn't deny that the thought of asking her out _never _didcross his mind. Because it had. On multiple occasions. But he had meant what he'd told Reid. She wasn't his type. She would never fall for someone like him. She was attractive of course, but that was about the only thing she had in common with the women he usually went out with. Reid had claimed that maybe he just didn't know about it, that he was changing and voilá, the right type of girls (or girl in this case) would come find _him. _Morgan had scoffed and laughed at the idea. Should have known better than dismissing one of Dr Reid's theories.

But years passed and she was on their team longer than anyone before her and Morgan found himself revealing things to her that he never ever believed he would tell a woman, especially not one that had sparked an interest in the very beginning. Nah-ah. But he did. Another sign probably. But most importantly, she became his partner. And their partnership was something he had always valued. It was something his father had taught him; the trust, respect and dependence between two partners in the field was very important.

The different sides of her he got to see fascinated him more than anything, and probably made the eventual fall even harder. How could one single person have such depth? So complex and capable of being much more than what was visible on the surface.

Emily could sport those cargo pants just like him and intimidate suspects to silence with that intense stare of hers. But just as easily, she could look to him, for just a second, and those eyes showed both vulnerability and sometimes even doubt. He learned quickly to read her, like an open book. She could sit curled up in her seat on the jet, staring out the window and thoughts somewhere far away. Sometimes she would let him in and tell him what had gotten to her this time, sometimes she had specifically told him to leave her alone. At least for a while.

That was another sign. Usually, if a women would say something like that, for him to leave her alone he would shrug, move on, think it wasn't worth the effort anyway. But not with Emily. If she pulled away from him, snapped at him or anything like that, he knew better than to hold it on her. Because there was always an apology. Or a late night talk on the phone that erased all the previous snappy conversations of the day.

Then it finally got obvious. Or at least it should have been. Derek guessed he was already in too deep, even then, so he never really got a chance to be objective. Because now he found himself amazed by her on a daily basis. Most often small things, things he had never been able to notice in anyone else before. It didn't matter if they trudged through crime scenes, sat through meetings or consults or drank their problems away on one of their infamous team nights out. He still found himself look at her a little longer and glancing over his shoulder one more time, just to check that she was there. To maybe catch her looking back and get that secretive yet dazzling smile of hers.

So being without her for seven months, believing he had failed her and now had no chance of making it up to her finally made it clear to him. It suddenly explained everything. And unnerved him, both at the same time. The lack of dates and the emptiness that had become so obvious when she was away proved how big part of his life she had actually become, how much he depended on her simply being their by her desk every single morning. Gradually, she had nudged her way into his life and having her taken away was pure torture. As the clichés had always portrayed it; it felt like he'd lost a part of himself.

But somewhere between finding out the truth, getting her back, eventually mending their partnership and once and for all helping her put a part of her past behind her for good, it had turned out that she had made things clear for her, too. Paris had given her a lot of time to think, reflect and analyze what she left behind. When she returned, everything had seemed different. Or maybe he just saw it in a different light. Many failed attempts later (very _very_ many failed attempts later) they had finally talked about it.

He still remembered it. His heart pounding so hard he thought his chest would explode. The nervousness. How her presence made his head swirl. That's when he'd known he'd got it so so so bad.

And the feeling when she had finally looked up at him and smiled that smile... Spoken words he barely remembered except for the fluttering feeling in his stomach region that had made him feel ridiculous and insanely happy at the same time... It was real, it existed. And most importantly, he was capable of feeling it. It wasn't just written about in dusty old novels. Those stories existed because they were taken from reality. From the lives of ordinary people.

That particular insight had come almost six months ago. Since then there had been some rough patches but nothing to ever make him doubt their relationship. They had told the team and still had to deal with an overly triumphant Reid who took every chance to point out that he had known it all along and how Morgan had been living in denial back then.

He still had a hard time believe it, though. Love. Having found someone that made him feel whole, complete in a brand new way. And that someone like Emily Prentiss had actually fallen for _him._ How on Earth could she, an ambassador's daughter who spoke a million different languages and had worked missions for both the CIA and Interpol that he would never hear about, choose him? The ex-cop from backstreets of Chicago with the hot temper and impulses that got him into trouble half the time.

But every time those particular thoughts kept him awake, she always noticed. She would give him that look. The look that told him he wasn't fooling her this time either. She would sit with him, and say nothing but telling him that she loved him. Hearing her say those words and all the emotion behind it was still unreal to him. But he believed her. Because that's what he sounded like when he told her the same.

Maybe "the one" was still a cheesy concept taken from books and movies but the implications of it was highly realistic. Even if once doubting the mere existence of something and being completely certain that if it did, at least it wasn't for him, he knew better now. Now, he had solid proof.

And he was eternally grateful for having been proven wrong.

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